


Crucifies my Enemies

by Morgawse



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-26 14:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/Morgawse
Summary: “All the loose ends tied up in Cali, Frank,” Ray said slipping his hands into his back pockets, waiting for Frank’s next command.As they made their way to the waiting car, Bob leaned into Gerard hissing, “Everything is in play as you requested.”What is the information that is in the courier’s (Ryan) head?  What has it got to do with the Mafia boss (Frank), the pharmaceutical manufacturing CEO (Gerard), the bar owners (Pete & Patrick), the head of Research and Development for one of the US’s biggest drugs company (Mikey), a mercenary (Brendon) and two doctors (Alex and Dallon)?  Who or what is B182015 and why did Gerard commission Dr Hoppus to build it?





	1. COME ONE COME ALL TO THIS TRAGIC AFFAIR

**Author's Note:**

> I was a big fan of Cyberpunk, especially William Gibson. I loved both his original short story and the Keanu Reeves film of Johnny Mnemonic. This is my homage to the genre with a nod to some of the film’s plot, but I have tweaked it to make it my own and not a copy of the film. So, some characters will be reminiscent of the on-screen ones, some characters from the film will not appear at all. So, if you know the film, sorry no Jones the dolphin! Also, this is not set in Night City, this is New York City and some of the towns and cities in northern New Jersey.
> 
> I will add tags by chapter. I was too lazy to be bothered creating OC’s so all characters will be from some band or other, but I will not add tags for characters unless they play a role in more than one chapter.
> 
> I think I got the typos and other errors, if not apologies.

*The Courier – Greater San Francisco Conglomerate*

“One last trip. One last trip.” Ryan tentatively felt around the implant at the base of his skull. It had served him well the five years he had been running information. Ryan was glad it hadn’t been a cheap, chopshop job, or it would never have lasted that long. He had money, boys (or girls) whenever he wanted, apartments on both the East and West coasts, although he hated the East Coast, which was why he rented that one out. He even had an offer of a “respectable” job in Communications at one of the big corporations which would top up his funds nicely, allowing him to maintain his lavish lifestyle from wherever he chose. If only the headaches would stop. He eased himself out of bed, taking one last look at the beautiful boy he had spent the night with and headed to the shower.

  

By the time he had finished in the bathroom, his companion was gone. That was only to be expected, the contract had only been for the night, but the boy had passed out, and Ryan couldn’t be bothered to wake him. If the guy tried to charge for staying, then Ryan had ways and means of ruining his reputation with all but the lowest class of clientele that the GSFC could provide. Hopefully, Ryan’s charm and standing proceeded him enough that the escort would not even try.

  

The shower had done nothing to ease his throbbing temples and the tightness that ran down the back of his neck and shoulders. No time for a massage now. That would have to wait until he had delivered the information. Better make sure to pack enough of the pain relief and muscle relaxants that his doctor had given him. 

  

At the last-minute Ryan remembered to pack some more “down at heel” clothing, things he normally wouldn’t be seen dead in. The brief had suggested that his usual flamboyant look might attract too much attention, even in the madness that was the Greater Metropolitan New York Conglomerate. Incognito and low key were the words the buyer had specified to the agency.

  

*The Information – Independent City of Oakland*  
Billie-Joe, Mike and Tre were huddled over a laptop that certainly looked like it had seen better days.  
“You really think this is gonna work? This piece of junk looks like it belongs in one of those overpriced vintage shops on the other side of the Bay.”

  

“Have a little faith, Mike. Have I ever let you down before?”

  

Mike and Tre surreptitiously exchanged glances. They did not want to rag on Billie, but yeah, he had let them down once or twice before. “What was it they used to say when these things were “en vogue”? Oh yes – I’ll plead the fifth on that,” Tre scoffed.

  

The man with the unruly black hair and smudged eyeliner pouted slightly. “Any better ideas of how to keep in contact with MJW without Mafia or Triad interference, please enlighten me.”

  

“Just saying the kit looks a bit sorry for itself, that’s all…”

  

“And it's slow. How long is this going to take?”

  

“Relax, it’ll be done before the courier gets here.”

  

“Uh did Tre tell you? He’s due here now. We moved the meet forward.”

  

Before Billie could find a suitable response, the lab’s entry system sparked into life. “Tre, go down and let him in. Mike, do something useful instead of breathing down my neck. It won’t speed the process up.”

  

Ryan tried not to show his surprise. These guys looked more like street punks than super smart scientists. Then again, he was not all that he seemed, either was he? Was there a real air of tension in this laboratory, or was it the implant setting him off, he wondered? Ryan rubbed at his temples hoping to make the dull ache and jittery feeling go away.

  

“Hey, I don’t mean to be rude guys, but how long am I going to have to wait? It was you that asked for an earlier pickup. I figured you’d be all ready to go.” No, it certainly was not his imagination or the implant. These dudes were on edge.

  

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Mike proffered a weak smile. “Slight communication error.” He pointed at Billie and Tre indicating that they, not him, were the source of the delay. “Here, have a seat.”

  

“So, you know that this has got to get to our buyer personally…”

  

“Yes, it’s all in my briefing notes. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  

“Er, well, it is ours. We’ve never uncovered anything as game-changing as this before.” 

  

Mike poked Tre forcefully in the ribs, “shut the fuck up. He’s just the courier. The less he knows the …”

“…less room for cock-ups.” Billie finished Mike’s sentence, throwing the nearest thing to hand at Tre.

  

“Yeah, honestly I just want to get to the GMNYC and deliver. Don’t need to know anything other than the destination,” Ryan stated tersely, adding “which I already know,” before one of them told him something he didn’t need to know putting them all in danger. God, he hated first timers. The agency really ought to have put that in the brief.

  

“Done!” Billie shouted, waving like a lunatic, breaking the tension. “Ready to upload?”

  

Grateful to be able to get this final job underway Ryan jacked in to take the data into his already overflowing brain. He had not finished and been gone more than 15 minutes when the whole area was rocked by the sound of an explosion.

  

*The “gun for hire” – The Greater Metropolitan New York Conglomerate *  
“Tell me, Brendon, what’s the latest from the quacks up at Awstir? They tell you there’s any change?”

  

“No Dallon, you know they won’t.” Brendon sighed slightly as he replied. Although it was supposed to be a perk, a reward for his faithful service these bi-weekly doctor’s check-ups felt more like a way of keeping tabs on his activity. He could not put a finger on why, it just did. His intuition was never wrong. He may have screwed up his motor reflexes trying to stay ahead of the game, but his intuition was still as sharp as it had ever been.

  

“They might, you know. If they really saw an improvement in your reflex tremors.”

  

“Didn’t think you were doing this for fame, glory and riches?” Brendon replied, with a slightly venomous edge to his voice.

  

“I’m not.” Dallon snapped back. “But a little external validation that I’m onto something would be nice. Water?” He held an almost overflowing glass out to Brendon.

  

“Bastard!”

  

“Look, I need to see you in action. Take the fucking glass!”

  

“I’d prefer something stronger.”

  

“That’s as may be. You can get that later when you go see Patrick. Right now, it’s all I’ve got, and I can’t give you another patch if you’re drinking.”

  

Reluctantly Brendon took the glass. It shook in his hand. Some of the water spilt out. 

  

“Better than last week” Dallon chirped, trying to allay the ex-bodyguard’s frustration.

  

*The Mafia Boss & the CEO (AKA FrankieBoy and GeeBaby) - The Greater Metropolitan New York Conglomerate *  
Frank heard the tell-tale clack of two pairs of expensive, hand-made shoes walk down the corridor outside his office.

  

“Gentlemen – let’s reconvene this tomorrow 8 am. I need the scores for the week. They better be good.”

  

Chairs scuffed on the floor as four out of the five other men in the room pushed them back to make as swift an exit as decency allowed. 8 am didn’t leave much time after closing to tally each area’s profits, kills, and personnel losses, especially given businesses like the Plug-in Baby didn’t shut their doors until 5 am. The Plug-in Baby was the most problematic of all the businesses under their protection, as Pete was not exactly quick at giving the Mafia their share of the profits. But it was also the best place in town for pretty much any type of action you could want. It suited Frank to let the quirks slide.

  

“Ray, find out what’s going on with the West Coast. Did we shut them down? And, er, get a trace on that courier, will you?”

  

“Sure Frank.” The two men exited Frank’s office together.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, a man with short platinum blonde hair was grabbing tumbler out of a cupboard, while a taller sandy-haired man pulled a bottle of the most excellent imported scotch out of a well-stocked drinks cabinet and handed it to him.

  

“Thanks, Bob. Should be ok for the night now. 07.30 pick up please.” The man paused as if unsure whether to stop there or follow up. “Oh, and I expect that the courier with the package my brother is waiting for should be en-route by now. Can you make sure he goes to see Messrs. Wentz and Stump? No doubt he could do with some ‘entertainment’!” 

  

“Will do, Gerard. See you at 07.30.” With that Bob turned to leave the kitchen, passing Frank who was on his way in.

  

“GeeBaby, you’re home! Ready to play with me?”

  

“Always ready FrankieBoy.” Gerard put the glass down and wrapped the shorter man in his arms pulling him tight into his chest. “Shall I take this nightcap up to bed with me?” He whispered into Frank’s hair.

  

“No. No time.” Frank picked up the glass, downing the amber liquid in one gulp. With that, he yanked Gerard towards the stairs. “Come on GeeBaby; you’re wasting precious time. I haven’t had sex for almost 24 hours – I’m a desperate man.”

  

“You’re incorrigible more like it FrankieBoy!” Gerard laughed following his partner towards their bedroom.

  

*The next morning*  
It was an all too early 7 am. Frank and Gerard were staring impatiently at the coffee machine. 

“Good job you drink yours at a scalding temperature.”

  

“Yeah, only so I can get onto the second and third ones of the day quicker.”

  

Frank looked his lover up and down, eyes lingering on the well-defined features of his face. “Did I tell you how sexy you look when you’re sleep deprived?”

  

“I damn well don’t” Gerard retorted.

  

“Aww, GeeBaby of course you do.”

  

“That’s only because you’re perpetually horny and the reason I am sleep deprived.”

  

“You sure you don’t have time before your car and Bobby turn up to carry you off to your ivory tower?”

“Honestly, baby – no. Oh, by the way, I was thinking of inviting my brother over for dinner sometime this week. Can you be around?”

  

“Question or demand?”

  

“Simply a question. We haven’t seen him in ages. I thought it might be good for all of us to get away from work for a night.”

  

“Whatever you want, Gorgeous. Ray can handle things for one night.”

  

“That settles it. I’ll give him a call later.”

  

Just as Gerard was down to his last couple of mouthfuls of coffee, Ray and Bob walked into the kitchen. Frank marvelled at his boyfriend’s impeccable sense of timing.

“All the loose ends tied up in Cali, Frank,” Ray said slipping his hands into his back pockets, waiting for Frank’s next command.

“Ready to go, Gerard?”

  

“Yes, thanks, Bob. See you later, FrankieBoy.” Placing a kiss on Frank’s lips and ruffling his hair, Gerard left for the office.

  

As they made their way to the waiting car, Bob leaned into his boss hissing, “Everything is in play as you requested.”


	2. Welcome to Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well hello there handsome! What’s your poison?”
> 
> The one in which Ryan meets Pete and Patrick, owners of the most notorious bar in the New York Conglomerate where he is looking for a bodyguard, while Pete gets himself some useful information about who Jack's secret admirer is which could come in handy, if he can figure out who is the right person to sell it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a little introduction to Pete, Patrick, and a tiny little bit of Jalex for you (I never knew I was so obsessed with that ship till I realised I have it in both my current stories. Whoops! ;)
> 
> I hope I got all the typos and errors out of this, if not then apologies.

*Greater Metropolitan New York Conglomerate*  
Ryan did a double take when he saw the name of the bar. Who calls a bar “The Plug-in Baby”? Shrugging he made his way inside. His sources had told him that this would be the right place to find himself a bodyguard. Judging by the way Billie-Joe, Mike and Tre had been acting he had a feeling he might need some back-up on this assignment.

“Well hello there handsome! What’s your poison?”

“JD. Straight up, no rocks.”

“Right you are. Anything I else I can get you” the slightly chubby strawberry blonde behind the bar purred as he slid the drink across the counter to Ryan, making sure that their fingers touched for a split second.

“Give the guy a break Patrick!” A man with bright pink hair, devilish eyes and the hint of a thorn necklace tattoo peeking out from his t-shirt jumped up onto the bar next to him. Pete had been watching at the front of the bar all night. He had seen the way Ryan had paused before coming in. Even though Ryan had dressed carefully to fit in, he still stood out like a sore thumb. “I reckon our friend here is new in this part of town.”

Patrick started to catch on to what he thought Pete was saying. “Hmm – you want some sugar to go with that drink?” As he asked the question, Patrick cocked an eyebrow at the out of towner.

Ryan took a second to look around. The name of the place suddenly making sense. It was clearly also a strip club and brothel. That was what the podiums on the stage and the pods on the mezzanine were for. 

“No, not my type.” That was the truth. Nothing in here could compare to the high credit escorts for which he had acquired a taste. It looked like most of the business here was for Pornodroids or the braindanced Meat Puppets. Neither idea was appealing to Ryan.

“Suit yourself” Patrick huffed.

“If you’re not here to get it wet, then I’m guessing you need muscle. There are enough establishments in other parts of town more of your “type” for you to drink in.” Pete wanted to move the conversation on and get to the meat of the business. One Jack Daniels was not going to keep the joint open.

Ryan nodded. “Need someone to get me into Awstir Pharmaceuticals HQ and back on transport to San Francisco. Two days job, three max.”

Pete looked like he was considering who to recommend. He shook his head slightly before replying as if dismissing something. 

“See those two lovebirds over there?” He pointed to a couple seemingly wrapped up in each other, oblivious to everything else around. “The one with the retro baseball cap on backwards – that’s Vic. Best reflexes in the whole conglomerate, and handy with just about any weapon you can imagine.”  
Pete smirked as he caught Ryan eyeing up the man sat on Vic’s lap. “Yeah, that’s certainly some great eye candy Vic’s got himself. Just wait till you hear Kell’s sing – really completes the angelic picture. Talking of which, he’s on in 15. Better tear them apart. You want me to introduce you to Vic?”

“If he’s as good as you say he is, then isn’t he really well known? That’s not exactly a risk I’d like to take right now. I get some hired guns will be scared off, but others might just see it as a challenge. Already have a big enough target on my back as it is. Anyone else stack up - without the notoriety?”

Pete sighed. “Ok, you’re the one paying. Patty get Andy to mind the bar. Joe’s already covering for me on the door. You take….”

“George.”

“You take ‘George’ and go find Brendon. Better fill him in on the way though. Just in case.” With that, Pete jumped off the bar and almost skipped over to Vic and Kellin. 

“Ok sweetie, you’re with me.” Patrick made his way out from behind the bar, linking his arm with Ryan’s and began to usher him into the back room. “Andy – you’re up. No freebies to the merchandise! Can’t have them drinking away all our profits.” He yelled over his shoulder to a bearded man whose arms and bare torso were covered in tattoos. “Oh yeah and put a t-shirt or something on will you!”

“So, what’s the deal with this Brendon guy?” Ryan probed.

Patrick pulled Ryan closer, whispering conspiratorially in his ear. “He used to be the best.”

“Used to be? What happened? You sure he’s the right one?”

“Oh, trust me, he’s exactly what you need.” Patrick winked. “Brendon used to be the bodyguard for one of the corporate bigwigs – Michael Way. He had the most fearsome reputation, even with the Mafia and the Triads, but as Vic and his brother Mike were catching up to him, Bren took the upgrades one notch too far. Got strung out. Started getting the shakes.”

“The shakes? You’re not exactly selling him!” an exasperated Ryan interjected.

“But he’s perfect! Everyone thinks he’s retired, but Dallon is trying out some new shit on him to keep the tremors under control. It’s kind of working. Bet he could hold it together for three days, so long as most of it is for show. The real bonus though is that he still gets access to Awstir doctors because of his service to Way, so it won’t be weird him going to their building with you.”

“Ah,” for the first time that night, Ryan allowed himself a small smile. “I get how this might work”.

*Upstairs at the Plug-in Baby*  
At a table on the mezzanine sat a nervous looking man, his coat collar pulled high up around his throat despite the heat in the bar. His companion was dressed in purple synth-leather hot-pants, that still had most of the ass cut out, a neon orange crop-top, again with cutouts in the most indiscreet places. His legs were clad in black fishnet stockings, not to mention the black knee-length stiletto-heeled boots. The outfit was all capped off with a blonde wig that would have looked at home on a twentieth-century drag queen, and a purple fascinator. Even by Plug-In Baby standards, it seemed over the top. 

Pete flew up the stairs two at a time grumbling to no-one in particular, “this is worse than herding cats. How come my performers seem to be getting more action than my whores!” Tonight, that seemed like more than all his whores combined, the Meat Puppets, the Pronodroids and the Flatbackers. The statement was an exaggeration, but if the entertainers were getting ‘relationship’ action, then he, Pete, was not getting a cut from it. That pissed him off. Reaching the table, he sidled up to the outrageously dressed individual, “Jack move your ass! No, DON’T shake it at me fuckwit!” Although, he admitted to himself that in that outfit, it was a truly fuckable sight. “Stage 2 with Kellin – 10 minutes, actually 8 now – MOVE” He slapped Jack on the ass to get him moving.

“Ow, cunt!” Jack reached behind him to rub his backside, jutting out his bottom lip to suggest that Pete had hurt him when it was obviously not hard enough to do that. Jack revelled in his diva reputation. 

The nervous-looking man stared up at Pete wide-eyed. He had never come face to face with him before, even though he had been to every one of Jack’s shows over the last few months. Perhaps that was too bold a statement; he had skulked at the back of the bar, trying hard to remain unrecognised was more appropriate. This was the first time Jack had persuaded him to talk to him like a proper lover would while Jack was at either of his places of employment.

A flicker of recognition flashed over Pete’s face before he recomposed himself and flounced off. So, he smiled to himself, Jack had snagged himself Awstir’s top physician, Dr Alex Gaskarth. Interesting. He wondered who else knew or might want to know.

Alex looked even more nervous now. Pete hadn’t said anything, but Alex was sure that had been recognition he had seen momentarily pass across his face. It was not unreasonable to be suspicious of that after all, Alex was the media’s family-friendly face for Awstir’s campaigns to get the public to believe their drugs were “doing good”. That was how he had first met Jack when he was discussing the details of the latest marketing campaign for Awstir’s “fertility” drug. Oh, then he had had to patch Jack up when he saw him come into work after some asshole punter had tried getting grabby on Jack the night before, but Jack had refused to get his injuries properly patched up. He had given Alex some lame ass excuse about fear of doctors and hospitals or something. Ironic then, that he had made a move on the company physician! Having his chief doctor frequenting low-life dives like the Plug-In Baby and having a relationship with a co-worker would not go down well with Mr Warner, Awstir’s CEO. No wonder Alex was nervous!

“Isn’t this where I’m supposed to say break a leg,” he laughed pushing thoughts of his being outed to the back of his mind. “You look amazing. It’s taking all my self-control not to drag you into one of those pods and fuck you senseless.”

“Save that for after.” Jack made sure he swayed his hips just the right amount to tantalise Alex further as he made his way to the stage.

“Kells! Got your tongue out of Vic’s mouth long enough to sing then?” Jack threw his arms round Kellin’s neck as he reached the side of the stage.

“Like you can talk. Your mystery admirer brave enough to actually talk to you today?” Kellin nodded towards Alex, whose eyes were still glued to Jack. He knew very well that the two had been seeing each other for some time. He was also well aware who Alex was, and that it was supposed to be a secret. Everyone knew that Awstir, along with many of the big pharmaceutical companies, had banned office relationships. Dismissal was probably the least of your worries if you got caught fraternising with a co-worker, especially one that also moonlighted as a stripper and cabaret performer. Before he could finish his thoughts or say anything else to Jack, Pete announced him. An unusual hush descended on the area surrounding the stage as two androids, and a hologram joined Kellin and Jack on stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm - Jack moonlighting as a stripper, not too far fetched really now is it? 
> 
> Any guesses as to who Alex and Jack's boss the CEO of Awstir, Mr Warner, is? What do we think Pete is really up to suggesting Brendon & recognising how useful knowing about Alex & Jack could be - whose side is he on?
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter - just note smut is really challenging for me, but don't let that stop you requesting it.


	3. And Their Name Was Treason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think that will be much of an issue. Everyone has to have a ‘come to Jesus’ moment at least once in their life..."
> 
> The one in which:  
> Andy pervs on Mikey instead of concentrating on his pitch; Ray and Bob are too busy plotting to eat pancakes; and Brendon checks out Ryan (no sorry just his hotel room).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter, my lovelies. While it looks like a filler, it actually sets a whole host of things for the rest of the plot. ;)
> 
> I hope I got all the typos and errors, if not apologies.

*Awstir Pharmaceuticals – Jersey City, Greater Metropolitan New York Conglomerate*  
The offices of Awstir Pharmaceuticals were in Jersey City, once part of New Jersey. In one way it was an odd location to choose, in another, it was the ideal location in the GMNYC. Earlier in the twenty-first century, the gentrified parts of Jersey City had become the home to banks moving out of Manhattan, and New Jersey had a historical reputation for being home to pharma and biomedical companies. In today’s world those who understood these things knew that drugs had replaced money as what made the world go around. Ironically, the global HQ for Awstir was in the place where Colgate-Palmolive Tower and then the Goldman-Sachs Tower had been. The Colgate clock which had been an iconic landmark of that part of the Hudson waterfront had also long since been destroyed.

On the thirtieth floor, Senior VP of Research and Development Michael J Way sat at his desk. To any casual observer, Michael was simply resting back in his chair contemplating some important business decision. Appearances can be deceptive. Oh, Michael was in “contemplation mode” alright, just not about Pharma R & D. If you took a proper look through the glass of his office door, you would catch a glimpse of something shocking pink peeking out from the executive’s desk – right in front of him. If you were smart, you would move away quickly and return to your seat after your restroom visit. If you were Andy Biersack, however, you would continue to stand there transfixed as you realised that your boss’s baby brother was receiving a blow job from none other than the legendary Pete Wentz, owner of the Plug-In Baby. Andy was not just smart; he was a certified genius. Albeit one who now had a serious hard-on from perving at Michael and Pete. This information was priceless. Two questions surfaced. One, how to get rid of the boner he was sporting before going into the VP of Production’s office to pitch for RandW Labs to be the sole manufacturer of Awstir’s latest “wunderdrug”, since he’d already played the restroom card? Two, how could he best use it for personal gain?

*Harrison, New New Jersey*  
Two men sat in a booth in Tops Diner. It had been painstakingly restored, chrome finish, faux leather on the booth seats, paper menus covered in plastic and images of the diner’s history going all the way back to the mid-twentieth century. Neither Harrison nor Tops were the places you would expect to see two such immaculately and expensively dressed people. New New Jersey was where all the misfits, weirdos and n’er do wells who couldn’t make it in the metropolitan conglomerates of Manhattan or Philadelphia congregated. Not making it and being forced to live in New New Jersey was a damning statement on your life, given that both Greater Manhattan and Philadelphia had their notorious scum Project districts for their respective lowlife communities.

“What can I get you?”

“Coffee.”

“Make that two.”

“Anything to eat?”

“No. Not yet. Leave the menus though, thanks.” At that the waitress left the table, looking slightly relieved to be away from the two strangers. Something about them suggested trouble.

“So, I heard from Jack that Dr Gaskarth thinks Brendon’s tremors seem to be decreasing. Not enough that anyone untrained would notice, but…”

“You believe Jack?”

“No, I believe Dr Gaskarth.”

“Didn’t think they were giving him anything?” 

“They’re not.”

“So how the fuck is he getting better?”

“You’re asking me? I’m no fucking doctor. I just know what I heard from Jack.”

At times Bob could be infuriating. The curly-haired man ran his hand through his hair, wondering how his companion could be so gullible. He was bemused that someone with such a responsible job as personal assistant and bodyguard to the CEO of a drugs manufacturing company would actually listen to and believe the tittle-tattle of some little office boy.

“Credit me with some intelligence here! A guy who jacked his reflexes up so tight he couldn’t hold a gun straight. A guy who supposedly hasn’t had any treatment other than placebos for the last year. This guy is suddenly starting to improve all by himself. More than that, you expect me to believe the news when it didn’t come to you first hand. It came to you through the office gossip. Honestly, Bob?” 

“Jack’s screwing Gaskarth. Has been for months. I sort of incentivised him to get me information on Bredon and anything else Gaskarth’s working on. Some of it for us, and some of it for Gerard – got to keep the “boss” sweet.”

Ray nodded. Bob’s explanation made both pieces of information far more credible. He still didn’t fully believe the miracle improvement though. Someone else must be helping Brendon unwind his reflexes. The news about Jack and Dr Gaskarth was unexpected, but he knew just as Frank had ways of making people comply, so did Gerard. He may be a corporate CEO, but years of living with a Mafia boss had rubbed off on him. He assumed it was Gerard who had Bob blackmailing Jack; Bob surely wouldn’t think of that himself? Ray took a moment to consider what he could do with this new information. Finally, he concluded that he would keep it in his back pocket for just the right moment.

“Who’s detailed on Michael now,” he enquired. “I heard he’s gone through three bodyguards since Bren screwed himself up.”

“Fuentes.”

“Vic or Mike?”

“Patrick said Mike, but I don’t trust that little cocksucker. Could be either. Could be both.”

“Shit – both? That’s going to be a serious bitch to overcome.”

“Nah, I got the situation covered.”

“Do enlighten me, Bob! Can’t wait to hear your solution for that – taking out both Fuentes motherfuckers.”

“Come on Ray – don’t forget Vic’s little weakness. Get to the little songbird, but not outright fuck him up, and we can play with Vic’s head.”

“Quinn? Ok, with you so far – in theory. Go on.”

“Well, I thought maybe we could up the game a little to ensure we got both. If we’re lucky though, attacking Vic will get Mike off guard.”

Ray almost choked on his coffee. “You been taking some of that shit you guys manufacture? For fuck’s sake Bob, you really think that an asshole like Fuentes will go down that easily?”

Bob beamed at his companion. His eyes twinkled knowing Ray would never guess what he was about to say.

“I don’t think that will be much of an issue. Everyone has to have a ‘come to Jesus’ moment at least once in their life. I’ve yet to hear of anyone who’s met the Confessor without succumbing to just such a moment.”

“You’re shitting me, right?” Bob was correct; Ray had not expected that to be Bob’s solution. “The Confessor? How in hell do you, Bob Bryar corporate flunky, know the Confessor?”

“Let’s just say Radke, and I go way back to when he was still more human than terminator.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or slightly concerned.” 

“Concerned?” Bob responded quizzically. 

“Well, I do work for Frank Iero remember?”

“Yeah – I remember, I have to watch the same shit you do at the mansion. Jeez, those two together make me want to puke – GeeBaby and FrankieBoy – I mean seriously! Anyway, back to OUR business. I think the word you were searching for is afraid.”

Ray ignored Bob. Even though Bob had hit the nail on the head, no way would he ever admit it. If he did admit it, then was he really fit to be No.2 to one of the most sadistic Mafia bosses in the country? But, Ray was, in fact, a little afraid of finding that Bob was more of a badass than he had ever given him credit for. Ray thought that Bob was just a useful cog in his little career development plan.

“Ok,” Ray ventured, “so assuming you can pull off your batshit crazy idea to take out the Fuentes brothers. That just leaves us one big hole in our plan.”

“Yup, and that my dear Ray is your problem to solve. Now, I’m starving. Pancakes?”

*Outside Ryan’s hotel – Chelsea Piers, Greater Metropolitan New York Conglomerate*  
It was the morning after the night before. Brendon had his new commission firmly on his mind as he made his way into one of the upmarket parts of the conglomerate, on the island that was New York City. This George had some pretty fancy tastes for a delivery boy – even one running whatever it was for the pharma boys. Something didn’t add up. For the second time that week, his senses were telling him that something was not all it appeared to be. He knew his old boss liked to flirt on the wild side, but could Michael really be pushing something of his own right under Mr Warner’s nose? That would really take some balls. Just deliver George to Awstir and get the hell of out of dodge – maybe let him fight his way back to Newark on his own. If there was something odd going on he figured that in his current state, life was better than going up against whoever the fuck Michael had protecting him, let alone find himself mixed up in something that crossed Brian Hugh Warner’s plans. Heck, he’d got enough up front to keep Dallon treating him for a while. 

The more his mind dwelled on it, the more convinced he was that George was not your run of the mill courier. No doubt George was a made-up name. The guy looked like he would have one of those ridiculously long names that ended in Jr or the Third. Who had he thought he was fooling last night with that getup – no way did he normally dress like that. It was like he was wearing his scumbag cousin’s clothes to blend in. Laughably, it had only made him stand out more. Brendon walked into the hotel lobby and up to the reception desk.

Ryan’s head was not just pounding – he had a full-on marching band in there. There was no denying it; the pain was getting worse. Knowing what painkillers he had packed, it was going to take a combination of probably three of them to bring the headache to a tolerable level. One where he could think clearly. Just as he had poured himself a glass of water to take the pills, the room’s intercom buzzed. Brendon. It had to be. No-one else knew where he was staying, not even the agency. He always made sure to book a hotel for himself that they were not aware of – especially on a job that felt like it could go sideways at any minute. Like this one.

“I have a Mr Urie here for you, Sir. Shall I send him up?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.” Ryan laughed at himself. There was no need to be so formal or polite with androids. However, politeness (no matter who to) was a matter of personal pride – so he did it anyway.

Ryan’s brain was so affected by the pain raging through his skull that after swallowing the pills he forgot to put the bottles back in his luggage. If he had been thinking straight, he would have done. It would not do to have people questioning if he was up to the job of courier, even if this was his last hurrah. Putting the door on the latch, he headed to the shower.

“Er, hi, George,” Brendon called out finding the door unlocked. Pushing it open cautiously he heard running water. Ok, good, Brendon thought, he’s in the shower, and obviously, he has only just got in given he had answered the intercom. That gave him time to scope out the room; to see if there was anything to confirm these suspicions he had. Being truthful, Brendon was a little disappointed that there wasn’t much to find. A set of clothing that looked like it suited George better than what he had been wearing the previous night was all that stood out from an initial sweep. Then he caught sight of the painkillers. Fascinating. He knew carrying data in your head could give couriers some wicked headaches from time to time, then again this was some serious volume of painkilling medication. Innocuous enough by themselves, but lined up together like that? Maybe George needed to go see Dallon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, reckon there's going to be some Petekey in here? What are Bob and Ray really plotting - all guesses welcome. What do we think about Brendon snooping on Ryan (George)?
> 
> I am going to change my name on here so that it matches across multiple accounts, so this will probably be the last week I post as Morgawse - look out for posts from Disenchanted Halo (in some format or other) from here on in. I will post this on other my works too so hopefully all my wonderful readers see it!
> 
> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect - I promise to follow back:). I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome.
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect. I always tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter - just note smut is really challenging for me, but don't let that stop you requesting it.


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